Murtagh Hand of Death
by kwapikwapisz
Summary: This is a scene between Murtagh and a strange creature King Galbatorix wishes to control, but things don't always work out so well when your dealing with Vampires . . . All credit for Murtagh and Thorn go to Christopher Paolini.


Fear gripped Murtagh as he crouched along the gurgling riverbed, wincing when a few pebbles plinked into the water. His sword clenched in his one hand and a dagger in the other, not that they would help much against this foe, but they still felt comforting in his hands. Up ahead, diving in and out of the sparse clouds, flew his crimson Dragon, Thorn. Hi scales glinted in the warm light from the sun.

i_Thorn, can you see anything? What lies up ahead?/i_ Murtagh called out through the connection he and his dragon shared.

i_There is the small wood and I see the large rock Galbatorix spoke of./i_ Thorn swooped down, landing in the meadow beside the stream. He watched as Murtagh drew closer, then followed his Rider as he disappeared into the trees.

i_Why the King didn't do this himself, especially when he said that he knew I couldn't complete the task, I'll never know./i_ Murtagh stated as he entered the clumping of Fir, Oak, Birch and Willow trees, who's branches fell down, in a feathery mass, to the ground making it hard to see what was behind it. Kneeling, he scanned the ground for any trace of life, but nothing to suggest a human was there or had been at all. Sighing, he picked himself up and sheathed his dagger and sword. Walking back to Thorn he said impatiently,

i_Thorn, I don't see why we are here. There is nothing at all. Why did that king send us on such a worthless search?/i_

_iMaybe it's punishment for all the times you tried to run away./i_

_iTo kill me?/i_

_iNow, Murtagh you are to valuable an asset for him to have you killed. He must know that this thing, whatever it is won't kill you and will do what he wants./i_

_iTHEN WHAT IS THE POINT Of ME BEING HERE?/i_

_iI don't know Murtagh, I don't know. It—/i_

All of a sudden the sky grew black as clouds rolled in. Thunder clapped and lightning cracked, illuminating the ground for a split second. The trees started to bend and weave, like dancers, wild and beautiful they twirled and swished. Leaping out of the way just in time, Murtagh looked on as a huge tree branch fell were he had been standing. He looked over at Thorn, who had his hand bent to the wind. He could feel his Dragon's confusion as vivid as his own.

Then a strange and beautiful sound filled the air, drowning out the wind. It was a women's voice, but the words, even indistinct, had an erie, sinister note to them. Haunting even. Murtagh searched about for the source, unsure of what to do.

"I know who you are Murtagh Morzanson. And you Thorn. What is it that you want with me?" Gasping Murtagh spun around wildly for the body of the voice, but all he saw was the swaying trees.

"I grow impatient waiting, Rider. Tell me!"

"Reveal yourself to me lady and I will gladly tell you who I am and what business I have with you." Laugher filled the clearing, high pitched, wild sounding. Then the voice continued,

"And just why do you assume that I should or would listen to you?"

"But you asked me—"

"I grow weary of this game," Interrupted the voice. " and I do not like troublesome visitors. I shall come to you." A twig snapped to Murtagh's left, behind the branches of the Willow tree. Murtagh whirled around, his hand immediately flying to his sword hilt.

"Do no waste your energy boy." It was behind him now. "It is so foolish." Then above.

"Stop these games and face me!" Shouted Murtagh, looking everywhere.

"Fine." And standing before him was a women. Sheets of black hair fell down her slender back, parting where it fell around her pointed ears. She was tall, and finely built wearing a black robe that billowed around her feet and was cut low in the chest. Her skin was white. Deathly white. Lips redder then blood parted in a smile revealing pointed teeth. Her eyes were black.

"Satisfied now, little boy?" She took a step toward Murtagh, who fell back pointing his sword at her. She stopped, an eyebrow raised. "Is something the matter?"

"What are you?"

"Come now, it's rude to ask such a question, especially when it should seem so obvious." She pouted mockingly.

"Are you Shade?" She grinned, her teeth glinting.

"I make Shades run in terror."

"An Elf?"

"Now your just being insulting."

"Then what are you?" She sighed, looking at him in a bored manner.

"Did Galbatorix really send someone as dim witted as you to accomplish this mission? I pity him, he must be mad." Murtagh didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue. At last she did.

"I am a Vampire, little boy. I dare say that's not something you learned about in school is it? I can see not. It was a forbidden breeding, but the Elves ignored it. The pretty fools." Murtagh stared open mouthed at her, breathing hard. He fell back another step, Thorn's shock mingling with his own. Then he answered,

"I know what that is, but I heard that they had all be killed." She threw back her head, shrill laughter filling the surrounding air.

"Killed? Oh, please. One does not just kill a Vampire. It would take much, much more then your silly little medal play toy to finish me off and that would be after you cut off my head. No. It is true that we are a small breed, only fifty that I know of still haunt the shadows of this land, but I am one of the last."

"But what does Galbatorix want with you then? Can you even use magic?"

"Wow, they have certainly lowered the standards for a Dragon Rider from what I could remember and believe me, I go way back." She smiled, a took another step forward. He raised his sword threateningly. She chuckled and grabbed his sword blade with her hand, tearing it out of his hand. Blood gushed out over her hand, the sword's keen blade had left a deep wound in her palm. Murtagh watched in sickening fascination as she licked her cut, drinking the blood. When she let her hand fall back next to her side, the hand was completely healed. Looking up at him, she shrugged.

"It's a meal for me." Shaking his head Murtagh sheathed his sword, it would be no help against her.

"What is your name then?"

"Charna. It means "One who Sucks Blood," appropriate, huh?"

"I was to deliver you a message and—"

"And what? To join your king? He is going to have to do a lot better then you to get me to give up my days of wistful blood drinking."

"I'm sure there will be accommodations for your meals."

"Hmm, I'm sure there will be. I still won't go and nothing you say will convince me otherwise. Unless," She hesitated, looking hungrily at his neck.

"Not on your life."

"Pity, my life is so long."

"Fine. Well, I can tell that you won't come with me on my terms and I won't take you on your's, so . . ." He glanced uneasily over his shoulder at Thorn, who nodded slightly. "I'll be going."

"And what are you going to tell your king then?"

"That you didn't agree to the terms he laid down so I didn't bring you in."

"Not even by force?"

"Right, like I'm going to risk having you drink my blood and Thorn's. I'd rather take the whipping that is in store for me."

"Hmm, I've never had Dragon before . . ." Behind Murtagh, Thorn growled and backed away slowly. Charna chuckled lightly. "Tis a pity you don't have the guts to fight me. I did so want to show off my powers. It's been too long since I last had an audience." Murtagh hesitated on going to Thorn.

"What are your powers exactly?" He took a step toward her, warily. She grinned, her eyes lighting up.

"Allow me to show you . . . I can be as deadly as the shadows that trip you in the night. As soft and gentle as rain splashing on the ground. As fleeting as the wind . . ." Charna leaned her head backwards, and blood gurgled forth from her mouth; running down in streams over her skin. The wind picked up, the ropes she wore fluttering around her ankles and with a soft whoosh she was gone.

Murtagh let out a cry, spinning around, searching. Suddenly her voice floated past him, carried on the breath of the wind.

"I can be as sturdy as a tree." A branch tapped Murtagh on the shoulder. Yelling, he leaped backwards, tripping over something on the forest floor. Looking for it he saw nothing. Charna's voice burst up from the earth,

"As dependent as the ground upon which you trod." Scrambling up, Murtagh waited for where she would appear from next.

"I come and go like bird, on the wings of freedom." Cawing filled the air; the flapping of wings accompanying it. Murtagh turned his gaze upwards just in time to draw his sword as a huge Condor swooped down on him. Before he could slash at it, the Condor was on top of him, its sharp beak inches away from his nose.

"You were right," The Condor's beak opened with Charna's voice. "It was wise of you don't to take me by force. In fact the only thing stopping me from drinking your blood right now, is that I kinda like you, and besides that I met some obliging farmers earlier." The magnificent bird leaped of off Murtagh's chest, and cocked its head as he clambered to his feet.

"I'll see you later Murtagh Morzanson." Murtagh watched the bird take off into the air before he raced to Thorn, jumped into the saddle and together they took off into the sky, Murtagh knowing what a whipping he was going to get.


End file.
